


Scarlet Sworn

by Sleeping4tNight



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014), The Last Dragonlord - Joanne Bertin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, M/M, Soulmates, kind of, more tags added later as I need them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-17 00:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14176401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleeping4tNight/pseuds/Sleeping4tNight
Summary: Dragonlords–immortal weredragons tasked to keep peace among truehumans. Half a human soul and half of a dragon soul within a body, each Dragonlord has a Soultwin born with the other halves of their souls. All Dragonlords save Leonard Kaldrythe, that is. It's been centuries since a Dragonlord fledgling has been born, and Leonard is beginning to feel like there might not be any more.Barry Allen grew up infatuated with stories of the Dragonlords, distant legends that live in the Neiran Mountains. He's been to the mountain range with his foster father's caravan many times, but his only knowledge of Dragonskeep itself comes from a regular traveller with the caravan–Mick Rory.The King of Central Kingdom, dead in an accident at sea. With the period of mourning over, there is a dispute over who will inherit the throne. Princess Jesse, or Duke Eobard Thawne, who claims to be the next male heir. It seems the only way to resolve the conflict is by the judgement of Dragonlords. It seems the perfect opportunity for the Fraternity of the Blood to strike–and finally be rid of the Dragonlords they so despise.





	1. Dragonskeep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wyvernsongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernsongs/gifts), [youmakemesoangry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmakemesoangry/gifts), [TheRedHarlequin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHarlequin/gifts).



A blue dragon with scales that glimmered like cold sunlight on new snow spiraled around in the air above Dragonskeep until it reached the wide expanse of brick platform overlooking the cliff side and touched down lightly. A few seconds later, it was surrounded by a cloud of dark blue smoke that swirled thickly until it tightened into a small coil and a man emerged. His eyes, the shining blue of the dragon’s scales, flashed as they glanced up at the towering hold that was Dragonskeep. 

 

“Leonard,” a gruff voice called from the curved steps leading up to the entrance to the keep. “You could have warned me to hide from your sister before you decided to jump off a cliff this morning.”

 

“You were asleep, Mick.” The dragonlord flashed his friend a smirk as he climbed the steps to meet him. “There was nothing I could do.”

 

Mick grunted, but turned to push open the heavy wooden doors and lead them into the grand entrance hall lit by dozens of scattered balls of coldfire, placed by various dragonlords and flickering a rainbow of colors.

 

“She really only wants to know what’s been going on in the lands farther from Dragonskeep,” Len said conversationally, ignoring the way Mick was glowering. “We don’t get the chance to travel often. I think it’s been nearly a century since I went further than the outlying villages. 

 

Mick shook his head. “You know, kid, I still can’t wrap my head around how casually you take being immortal.”

 

Len shrugged. “There’s not much to be done about it. The world goes on.” Realizing he didn’t care to sound wistful, he added, “it’s not really immortality anyway. We’re not invincible.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Mick snorted, passing his hand through a nearby ball of coldfire as they reached the end of the hall where an arc opened into the commons of the keep, already populated by dragonlords just waking up or already taking breakfast.

 

When Len had first met Mick, his coldfire had shot fear through the man’s eyes, though he would rather slit his own throat than admit it. Since their first meeting–when Mick had thought Len to be much younger than himself and attempted to save him from bandits–Len had grown as fond of him as he had grown fond of flames.

 

“My ship arrived early this morning, down in the gulf,” Mick announced, catching his attention. “I’ll have to be down by this afternoon if I want to make it to Keystone in time.”

 

“You’re leaving already?” Len frowned slightly. “You haven’t been here long.”

 

Mick laughed his chilling, gravelly chuckle. “It’s been a month, kid.”

 

Len rolled his eyes at the second use of the nickname in as many minutes. Most people would hesitate to use such a term when the subject in question was a semi-immortal being of nearly nine hundred years.

 

“Lenny!” Len’s excitable younger sister barreled towards him from a staircase on the other side of the room, followed closely by her soultwin, Lashawn Maurianne. She was ten years his younger, but had undergone First Change later in life than he, and so looked his age. 

 

He raised his hand in acknowledgment of her and nodded to Shawna before taking a couple steps to meet them. 

 

“What has you so jumpy? Have you lost a wager with Lleld?” He drawled.

 

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Only if I were foolish enough to make one. No, the Lady requests your presence.” 

 

Briefly, Len’s mind flashed to the evening before, when Lleld had all but tumbled into the commons during dinner with news of a royal death in the Central kingdom. Len frowned. “Now? Mick needs help taking his things down to the coast. I’d assumed Cold and I would help make things faster.”

 

“Even I know you don’t just ignore a call from your boss,” Mick jabbed his fist into Len’s side. “The caravan will be crossing Central Kingdom next, but we’ll be in the capital for a while. Plenty close enough for you to mindspeak to me.” 

 

“It’s important, Lenny.” Lisa pushed Len’s arm lightly. 

 

“I’m sure it is,” Len sighed internally, pushing past her towards the staircase she’d just come from. 

 

If he was right, then he was likely being called to discuss the recent death of the King Harrison. Most likely, his daughter Jesse would inherit the throne, but it was possible there was claim from somewhere else. He knew there was a splinter of the royal family in the Thawne line with a male heir that could try to stake a claim. Surely the claim wouldn’t be so strong that the kingdom needed dragonlords to sit in judgment.

 

He stalked through the west wing of Dragonskeep, where the Lady Clarissa Azulan and her soultwin kept their chambers and held private counsel with their fellow dragonlords. The coldfire in this wing was almost entirely red-orange and brighter than most. The work of Martin Agnik, whose coldfire was only matched in power by that of Ronald Tsanrhilin, the youngest dragonlord. Lleld, who was marked by height the same as a child of ten years, took great joy in calling him “little one.”

 

Len reached the faintly golden tinted wood doors to the Lady’s chamber room and knocked once. The door opened instantly and Clarissa beamed at him from the other side. 

 

“Perfect!” She took his sleeve and pulled him in to the center of the room where she circled him a few times in consideration before returning to the cushioned seat behind her desk. “Yes, it’s precisely as I thought. You will be the fifth judge.”

 

Len raised an eyebrow. “Fifth judge in what case?”

 

“Do you mean to tell me Lleld hasn’t been offering wagers about this case since last night?” Clarissa gave him a knowing smirk. “But of course, you’ll want the details yourself. Very thorough, aren’t you?”

 

“I do my best,” Len replied wryly. 

 

“A trait that will do you well,” Clarissa shook one finger at him as she reached for the letter settled in front of her. She cleared her voice, “The Central Kingdom has come upon a dispute over the rightful heir to the throne. King Harrison’s daughter, Princess Jesse of Central Kingdom, was perceived to be the only heir. After the recent and tragic demise of King Harrison at sea, a waiver has been brought to light. One that would have Duke Eobard Thawne be the next to inherit the throne, by way of his grandmother, who was King Harrison’s great aunt. As no agreement has been met, all parties have agreed to request the counsel of the Dragonlords, and have agreed to accept their judgement.”

 

Len nodded slowly. “Who else?”

 

Thin smile dimming slightly, Clarissa lowered the letter and folded her hands. “The judges will be led by Oliver Roquen. You’ll also be traveling with Felicity Anandani, as well as your sister and her Soultwin.”

 

Len soaked in her words, smothering a grimace at traveling under Oliver, who seemed to make a point of reminding him he wasn’t living up to the dignity expected of a dragonlord. 

 

“Leonard,” Clarissa said softly, beckoning his attention once more, face now the picture of stoicism. “How has Kaldrythe been treating you?”

 

He turned his face to the side, feeling as though it would be easier to have been struck. “He’s been quiet. I haven’t had trouble Changing, and he seems calm. I know he’s getting impatient.”

 

“As are you,” Clarissa finished for him. “That’s why you need to be present for this matter. I feel you need it as much as it needs you.”

 

“I understand you have your reasons for your decisions,” Len began as Clarissa rose from her seat. 

 

“The Saethe have their reasons as well, but you know they would alert us immediately if there was even a whisper of a fledgling.”

 

Len pursed his lips, forcing himself not to be surprised that Clarissa knew his thoughts. Much the same way she must have known her Soultwin was behind the door as she swept past Len to open it and admit Martin Agnik. 

 

“Leonard,” Martin gave him a nod in greeting as he held out his arm to Clarissa.

 

Len raised his hand in return as Clarissa looked back at him once more. “Your destiny is inevitable, Leonard. When it arrives, it will be worth the centuries’ wait.” With one last hopeful smile, she left with her Soultwin, and Len was alone again. Alone, as it was starting to seem like he was meant to be.

 

* * *

 

Barry bounced up and down, looking out over the side of the ship as he scanned the docks for Mick Rory.

 

A laugh sounded from behind him, and Iris joined him with a calming hand on his arm. “Barr, he’ll be on time, he always is. Besides, we wouldn’t leave without him.”

 

“I know that,” Barry forced himself to still, though his eyes remained busy, looking to the pass into the mountains and then back through the small coastal village. “This time, he said he might return with Leonard Kaldrythe. A dragonlord, Iris! Can you believe we’re lucky enough to know someone who’s really friends with a dragonlord?”

 

Iris shook her head. “I can believe it. I could believe it the last three times you’ve yelled it since Mick joined our caravan. I’m surprised you don’t announce it in public squares everywhere we go.”

 

Barry grinned sheepishly. “Mick’d kill me if I did anything like that.”

 

Iris hummed in agreement. It was common knowledge to everyone in her father’s caravan that Mick Rory was not a man to be trifled with. That much had been evident during their first journey once he’d joined and a man had tried to steal from him. Everyone had woken to the smell of burnt flesh as Mick held the thief's hands in the campfire. 

 

Unlike most of the other hands, Barry hadn’t been scared away from Mick. He’d never been one to shy away from another member of the caravan, no matter how dangerous they seemed. A few weeks later, when Barry learned that Mick was personally friends with Leonard Kaldrythe, he hadn’t given the man a moment alone. 

 

Mick was a man of few words and little patience for all of Barry’s energy, but that hadn’t stopped Barry from wheedling him for all the stories of Dragonlords he could get. He’d spent most of his nights since then at Mick’s side, hanging onto every tale he could squeeze from the stoic man–especially the stories of Leonard Kaldrythe’s and Lisa Aurumaera’s adventures with James Jesse’s mercenaries.

 

“What do you suppose Dragonskeep is like?” Barry asked breathlessly, turning his gaze to the mountains, wondering if he might see a dragon if he could just squint harder. 

 

“Full of fire,” a growling voice came from behind him. “And the air’s on the thin side.”

 

Barry’s eyes lit up as he whirled to see Mick. Before he could speak, Mick jabbed his thumb towards the gangplank. “Help me load everything before you start asking questions at least.” 

 

Barry’s smiled wavered for a moment. “I thought…”

 

“Something came up,” Mick guided him past a snickering Iris and off the ship. “Dragonlords have business to attend to.”

 

“You’re right, I should have known,” Barry forced a laugh, failing miserably at hiding his disappointment. 

 

Mick softened a little as they reached his horse, laden with too many belongings for any normal horse to carry, but the Dragonlords’ Llysanyin stallions were much stronger than any mortal horse. Mick must have borrowed one. 

 

“You’ll get over your obsession someday,” he reached into one of the saddlebags. “There really isn’t anything worth worshipping in that ass, but in the meantime, I stole you this.” 

 

Barry stuck out his hand quickly as Mick threw a glowing orb at him, and flinched away with a yelp just as quickly when he recognized it as a ball of blue flame.

 

Mick chuckled somewhat darkly as he reached for the ball of flame, which hovered in the air where Barry had failed to catch it. “It can’t hurt you, doll. It’s coldfire.” He plucked the ball of coldfire up as easily as if it were tangible and pushed it toward Barry’s face. “Call it a gift.”

 

Barry’s eyes lit up once more as he eagerly reached for the flickering blue coldfire. 

 

“You can daydream with your right hand later,” Mick snatched the coldfire back and put it in a bag. “After we’re done loading the ship.”

 

Barry’s face heated as he dove for the saddlebags to relive the stallion of its burden. “That’s re–“

 

“Save it,” Mick waved him off. “You fantasize about Leonard more than those noble chits looking to score a night with a Dragonlord.”

 

“I never said I wanted to sleep with him!” Barry whispered furiously has he fought down the redness in his cheeks. 

 

“Neither did I,” Mick snorted. “But you’d have an easier time convincing a plant to spin its roots and fly.”

 

Barry let out a strangled noise and darted for the gangplank, pointedly ignoring Mick Rory until they set sail. 

 

Barry Allen locked his eyes on the mountains as they faded into the distance.  _ One day, Dragonskeep. _ He thought, turning his head the opposite direction as the coast drifted too far to see.  _ For now, I’m going home. I’m coming back, Central. _


	2. The Fraternity of the Blood

Len rose early the next morning to Lisa rummaging through his clothes and and tossing them into a case. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he sat up, waiting for Lisa to notice him.

She didn’t, so he cleared his throat and drawled, “What is it you think you’re doing here?”

“Morning Lenny!” She chirped, unfazed. “I thought I’d take care of packing since you can’t be trusted to choose proper clothes for human court. You can’t embarrass us by having an outdated style.”  
She continued sifting through his wardrobe and selecting the most expensive–and most uncomfortable–breeches and tunics he owned. “Not to mention I knew you would leave packing for this morning.”

“I’ll be wearing the ceremonial regalia whenever the the council is in session, sis,” Len rose slowly, plucking a deep scarlet robe from her fingers and placing it back in the closet. “And you should know by now that red isn’t my color.”

“It could be,” she took the garment back and lifted it until it was side-by-side with Len’s unnaturally light, ice-colored eyes–his Marking as a Dragonlord, as Lisa’s gold eyes were hers.

He gently placed his hand over hers and guided her to put the robe back in its place. “Leave, I’m going to talk to Mick before we leave this morning.”

Lisa pouted, but gave one last cursory glance at the contents of the case she’d packed before nodding in concession. “Shawna and I were going to take a turn around the mountains before we’re stuck in a plains country for a month.” Her chipper attitude bounced right back as she flounced across the room towards the door. “Tell Mick I said hi!”

“Of course,” he smiled thinly as he shut the heavy dark wood door behind her. He loved his sister as brothers should, but most brothers didn’t have to live immortal lives living with their sisters, and Lisa could be overwhelming even in small doses. At least things had been easier since Shawna was born.

Len crossed the wide open floor of his airy room, ignoring the cold stone under his feet. He stopped in front of the fireplace that face directly to the foot of his bed and knelt to rake his fingers through the ashes. They were cool– his fire must have gone out during the night. Closing his eyes, he reached to his chest and felt for the fire in his Dragonsoul. Kaldrythe stirred in the back of his mind, but remained quiet when Len guided the dragonfire through his arm and to his fingertips, lighting what was left of last night’s wood. He poked the fire with his hands, guiding it into a proper flame until it could heat the room.

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to feel the fire and steel himself for the new day, and rose. He stalked to the balcony to his right and stepped out into the brisk mountain air, breathing deeply and feeling the air run through his veins as though he were in flight.

He let his thoughts drift outward, expanding from himself and searching for a consciousness he knew well. He felt swaying and whispers of wind through cloth. Mick was still at sea.

 _How are the accommodations at the deck railing?_ Len asked, smirking through the mind link as he sensed Mick’s scowling.

 _Don’t think I don’t know what you would be like in my place,_ Mick replied sourly.

 _That’s besides the point_ , Len brushed him off. _Sailing isn’t exactly a necessity for me._

 _Speaking of,_ Mick was quick to change the subject before Len could take the upper hand. _Was Lleld right?_

It was Len’s turn to sour. _Yes. It’s a good thing no one took her up on her wager._

_Looks like you’ll be in Central then._

_Right_. Len confirmed. _I found Lisa already packing for me this morning. We’re flying out soon._

A wave of half-hearted resentment reached Len through the mind link. _You’ll make it there before us._

Len sent disappointment back through the link. _I was hoping not to be too much faster. How long until you reach the capital?_

 _Depends on what West decides. His caravan and all._ Mick replied. _We may stop at a few towns along the coast before we reach the capital. Better not tell Barry about the capital. He’ll be unbearable._

 _Barry_? Len questioned.

 _West’s ward_. Mick answered. _Hasn’t stopped bugging me about Dragonlords since he found out I was friends with one. Loves those stories about you ‘n Jesse’s Rogues. Follows me around like a puppy._

Len grimaced. _Of course he does. I don’t suppose also wants to become a thief?_

 _You really think I’d be traveling with this caravan if they knew what I was doing?_ Mick scoffed. _The kid’s oblivious. One of those optimistic types._

 _Doesn’t sound like the type you’d hang around, Mick._ Len sent him a sense of shock. _Don’t tell me you’ve got a soft spot?_

 _He grew on me_. Mick grumbled. _He’ll grow out of it._

 _Corrupting_ _children_. Len shook his head. _What will the dreaded thief do next._

 _Child_ , Mick gave him the impression of rolling eyes. _Corrupted_.

Len sent him a hint of amusement. _I’ll speak to you again once I land in Central. Hopefully things will be done quickly._

A wave a nausea swept through the link as the ship lurched. Mick broke the contact without another word.

Fair enough, Len rolled his shoulders to work the kinks out of his neck. He needed to be getting ready anyways, and he’d see Mick again soon enough. He’d be the only thing keeping Len sane during dull council meetings.

Then again, he cast one more glance out the balcony to see Lisa and Shawna circling together in the air, there were usually a few people eager to get into a Dragonlord’s bed. There would be someone. There always was.

* * *

“Mick!” Barry bounced his way across the deck to the starboard side, where Mick had just lost most of his breakfast. “How is it now?”

“As bad as the last time you asked,” Mick growled, as sour as the taste of bile in his mouth. “Why don’t you leave people alone to their misery?”

“I think being left alone to misery just means you suffer worse,” Barry replied lightly, leaning on the rail next to where Mick was slumped. “Besides, I brought you more ale to dump over the side.” He pulled his hand out from under his jacket and handed Mick a metal tumbler.

“I’m not dumping it over the side,” Mick tossed the drink back, only slightly less hostile.

“Not yet,” Barry shrugged. “I give it at least five minutes. Iris says less than that. If you can hold it longer than that, she owes me that box of mountain peppercorns she got in Keystone.”

“How much is that worth?” Mick raised an eyebrow.

“To the right buyer?” Barry smirked. “In Gotham I could get 60 gold pieces for it.”

Mick gave a low whistle. “I want half.”

“A sixth,” Barry countered.

“One third,” Mick insisted, pushing himself up further to match Barry’s stance.

“One fifth and no more,” Barry said with finality. “That’s more than you’ll get from Iris.”

Mick grumbled in silence for a moment, considering. “One fourth and I’ll tell you about my trip to Dragonskeep.”

Barry’s eyes lit up, but he knew better than to let on his eagerness. It was a valiant attempt, but he had never quite had the shrewdness it took be like the best merchants. He was almost too kind for his own good, Joe sometimes said. Barry forced himself to school his expression before he could respond. “Done.”

Mick settled himself down on a nearby crate and leaned back, apparently steadying himself in an attempt to keep down the contents of his stomach. “What do you want?”

Barry folded his legs underneath him as he lowered himself in front of Mick. Had he been any younger, and had Mick looked any less threatening, it might have looked for all the world like a child waiting for a story at his father’s knee. Barry considered Mick’s question for a moment.

“Tell me about the Llysanyins this time,” Barry grinned, thinking of the beautiful white horse that Mick had ridden to the docks. “Are they really as smart as humans?”

“Just a bard’s embellishment,” Mick snorted. “They’re smart, but not as bad as humans. Stronger, faster. Live hundreds of years–good partners for immortals.”

“The bard I spoke with in Keystone said they had strength and speed beyond our wildest dreams. That they were children of the West wind itself.” Barry prodded eagerly.

“Keyword there is ‘bard,’ kid.” Mick shifted, attempted to appear like he was handling the sea better than he was. “Don’t know about ‘child of the West wind,’ but I know Cold has a nice canter to him.”

“The stallion you rode yesterday?” Barry leaned forward, resting his hands on his legs, though they twitched uncontrollably. “He belonged to Leonard Kaldrythe, didn’t he?”

“Mare,” Mick corrected. “Of course she was his.”

“She was beautiful,” a dreamy note slipped into Barry’s tone.

“Beautiful with a bite,” Mick clicked his teeth to emphasize his point, but Barry didn’t seem to notice. He was looking back the way they’d come, like Cold would somehow be galloping across the waves.

All at once he snapped himself back to the ship, shaking his head to clear it. His faraway expression was replaced with glee. “It’s been more than five minutes,” he announced, jumping to his feet.

“One third!” Mick called as Barry turned on his heel to find Iris.

Barry laughed, a sudden, full sound that would have startled anyone who wasn’t expecting it. “Nice try!” He called over his shoulder.

Mick shook his head at the kid’s retreating back. Sometimes brash kids could stand for being a little more gullible.

* * *

Hartley Rathaway followed his parents through the grand hallway of Duke Eobard Thawne’s large country estate. He’d never liked the gilded glow of the place. It seemed everything was coated in gold or some shade of yellow paint. It was almost as disgusting as the man who owned it. The page ahead of them paid no mind to Hartley, just spoke softly to his father about the pieces of favored artwork on the walls as they made their way to the meeting room.

Hartley assumed the page had heard rumors of him, because he was deliberately avoiding meeting his eyes. No matter. Hartley was used to people’s foolishness. Servants could whisper all they wanted, it didn’t change that at the end of the day they were replaceable.

A voice in the back of Hartley’s mind whispered that he could be replaceable too, if he didn’t prove useful enough to the duke. He banished the thought as quickly as it had come, returning to himself as they stopped in front of a tall glazed pine door. The page knocked quickly and stepped in to announced them.

“Marquess Osgood Rathaway, his wife Marquise Rachel Rathaway, and their son, young lord Hartley Rathaway.”

Duke Eobard, a sturdily built man with a well groomed head of golden hair, rose from his seat at the head of the long table, followed shortly by his nephew on his left, Edward Thawne, a slightly less offensive looking blond with rough facial hair that spoke of a missed shave. The last occupant of the room was the last to rise, Duke Eobard’s steward. Agad Valvesan, if Hartley remembered correctly. Valvesan had black hair in sharp contrast to the Thawne men. It was slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck. His black beard was as well groomed as the rest of him. Hartley squinted at the breach of protocol. A steward–even one in the employ of the Archduke– should have been the first to rise for a Marquess. It most certainly wasn’t his place to remain seated after someone above him rose in greeting.

“Thank you for coming to my humble gathering,” the duke’s grin was sickening as he swept his hand broadly to gesture to the empty seats at the table.

“All in service of the Fraternity,” Hartley’s father answered politely before helping to seat his wife and taking his seat next to Valvesan.

Hartley crossed to the other side of the table and sat stiffly next to Edward. He knew what the Fraternity was, and he knew he wanted no part in the proceedings; whatever opinion his parents had, he did not share it.

“I’m sure you’ve heard already,” Eobard began as he took his seat again. “The council has agreed to submit to the judgement of Dragonlords. By now, word will have reached Dragonskeep and they will arrive in Central Kingdom soon.”

“Five Dragonlords for a panel, am I correct, Your Grace?” Hartley’s mother asked.

“Yes,” Eobard’s good humor didn’t even waver at her mild interruption. “But Dragonlords never travel without their Soultwins. We could have as many as ten on our hands!”

“My Lord,” Hartley’s father seemed perplexed. “Do we have the strength to handle ten Dragonlords? We have only one mage.”

Eobard waved his concerns away casually. “Ten is unlikely. Most probably there will be three sets of Dragonlords, and a sixth will merely be accompanying the fifth judge.”

“Excuse me, uncle,” Edward spoke up, startling Hartley from his examination of Eobard’s house steward. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what our business is with the Dragonlords.”

Eobard turned his attention to his nephew, as though just remembering he was present. “Of course, Edward. First, Osgood, Rachel, allow me to introduce my nephew and ward, Edward Thawne. He’ll be joining us from now on.”

“To answer your question,” Valvesan spoke for the first time. Hartley nearly cringed at the sound of his voice. If he could hear the voice of a serpent, he was certain it would sound as repulsive. Maybe more so. “Don’t you think the Dragonlords have too much power over truehumans? Meddling in affairs that aren’t truly their own.”

Hartley snapped his gaze to Edward’s searching for signs of his true feelings. Was he here because of his uncle, or did he believe Dragonlords to be evil as the rest of the Fraternity did? To his minor irritation, Edward’s face betrayed nothing.

“There is an argument to be made that truehumans should be ruling truehumans,” Edward answered vaguely. So he didn’t fully trust Valvesan either. At least not enough to speak freely.

“Indeed, you’re right.” The narrow look Valvesan gave him screamed that he was all too aware of the mistrust. “Yet the Dragonlords don’t seem to understand this. They must be taught not to meddle in truehuman affairs.”

“How so?” Edward raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Quite simply,” Valvesan’s lips spread into a frog like grin that sent shivers up Hartley’s spine. “They must be destroyed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Glad I finished this. I hope I get to have a bit more stuff with Hartley and Eddie happen. Valvesan is not an OC, but I don’t think he’ll be too hard to figure out. Thanks all you guys that left kudos on the first chapter! You give me life :)


	3. Arrival

The sun beat harshly on Hartley’s neck, despite his being tucked away under a canopy with the other young nobles of the capital city and nearby country lands. It felt like there were more people in the young court than there usually were at palace events. Then again, most palace events did not include the arrival of Dragonlords to the city.

Hartley tugged uncomfortably at his collar, sincerely regretting his choice of black clothing for the arrival festival. He risked a glance to his distant left and caught sight of his parents, special guests of Duke Eobard in his own personal canopy, standing next to the duke himself while they were all fanned by some unfortunate servants. Edward Thawne was with them, as was Agad Valvesan. Hartley narrowed his eyes, ignoring the incessant twittering of the young noble chits and arrogant boys trying to impress them. A shame all of them were only interested in the girls.

As he watched, Valvesan whispered into the duke’s ear, and the duke’s mouth split into a sickening grin. Hartley almost thought nothing the man could do wouldn’t be sickening to him. The duke wasn’t the subject his speculation for the moment, however. Valvesan, who showed much more pride than any house steward had any right to, was most certainly more than he was trying to seem. He carried himself as though he were a noble himself, royalty even. Hartley would almost believe that any of the Fraternity members under that canopy would follow orders from that man without a second thought. A frightening idea, considering the pride they all carried themselves with. His parents, especially. He considered a moment longer. Perhaps except for Edward Thawne.

_Hartley followed his parents away from the Fraternity meeting, ever the dutiful son he was meant to be, when Edward Thawne chased them from and cleared his throat to gain their attention._

_Hartley’s parents turned almost in sync, and Hartley stepped to the side that Edward would have a clear path to them. He didn’t approach them any further, though._

_“My apologies for stopping you on your way out,” he placed a hand at his waist and gave a slight bow as he spoke. “I was hoping that I might confer with Lord Hartley for a time before he left. If the delay is any issue for you, I’ll be glad to send someone to return him to your estate after you.”_

_Rachel turned a raised eyebrow to her husband, as though questioning how he would respond to their son being called out by a respectable young lord. Surely they expected Hartley to be ignored and written off. Osgood merely studied Edward for a moment, cast a short glance at his son, and nodded. “Hartley would be honored to attend you, Lord Edward.”_

_“Thank you,” Edward smiled with a kind of sincerity on his face that couldn’t be faked. Hartley was appalled. It was as though this man thought something good was going to happen once he got Hartley alone._

_When Hartley’s parents were far enough away that they wouldn’t be listening to Edward anymore, the Thawne ward turned to Hartley and tilted his head back the direction he had come from. “Attend me in the gardens, please?”_

_Hartley had to resist the urge to shoot back with a snide comment about Lord Edward’s unnecessary politeness. They both knew that in a setting such as this, Hartley would have no choice other than doing whatever Edward asked of him. Instead, Hartley took a steadying breath and murmured his reply. “Of course, my Lord.”_

_Edward didn’t speak again until they were seemingly lost in the hedge maze that took up the greater part of the Thawne estate’s gardens. His silence had done nothing to ease Hartley’s nerves of placate the part of him that ached to be home already. The farther he could go from the Thawne’s and the damned Fraternity, the better._

_“Do you truly believe in what they are trying to do?” Edward asked finally._

_Hartley paused. Surely they were testing his loyalty. He would die here if he couldn’t give them the response they wanted. “My family is loyal to the Fraternity of the Blood.” He hedged, hoping that might be enough._

_“No,” Edward shook his head, finally stopping so he could turn to face Hartley. “I mean,” he swept a hand out from himself, nearly striking Hartley as he did. “That man wants to kill the Dragonlords. They actually want to wage some kind of war on immortals, and my uncle is only blinded by the power he might gain from the throne. It’s that man Valvesan, I’m sure of it.”_

_Hartley was torn. He’d known Edward for a time when they were younger teens, the man had never been one with the skills of a player. He couldn’t even lie convincingly to himself if he tried. If he truly was simply lying to gauge Hartley’s loyalty to the Fraternity, he could hardly be convincing. Still, Hartley chose his response carefully._

_“Do you disagree with the Fraternity?”_

_Edward furrowed his eyebrows and studied Hartley for a moment. “I know you won’t betray me to my uncle for being against him. You’re a good man, Hartley. I only hope you’ll see things my way and help me stop them.”_

_He stalked out of the maze, leaving Hartley to find his own way._

Hartley cast one last distasteful glance at the young nobles under the canopy and went to join Edward under Duke Eobard’s entourage. His parents turned stern and icy glances in his direction as he approached, but he slipped into place beside Edward anyway. They wouldn’t send him away. Their pride wouldn’t suffer people asking why they disapproved of their son and only heir.

“My Lord,” Hartley greeted as servants moved to fan him as well.

“Please,” Edward turned a smile to him, “We’re friends. Call me Eddie.”

Hartley wrinkled his nose slightly. He didn’t know that ‘friends’ was the best word to describe what they were. “Eddie,” he said anyway, just loud enough that his parents would hear.

Eddie sent a sideways glance at Hartley’s parents, gauging them for a reaction. Then he lowered his voice, his smile dropping into a serious expression. “Have you thought any more about what we spoke of last?”

Hartley shook his head, internally willing Eddie to stay silent. “You play a dangerous game here. Your uncle…” he trailed off at the grim set of Eddie’s jaw.

“Some other time” his tone was clipped. He raised his hand, pointing one finger to the distant sky. “Our esteemed guests are here.”

Hartley followed the line of his toned arm and squinted at the dark figures soaring closer to the city. All around the wide open festival grounds, the attendants to the Dragonlords’ arrival stirred in excitement, the weariness of the heat evaporating instantly. Nobles and commoners alike edged as closely to the landing area as they dared. Behind them, Eobard rose from his seat and approached the front of the canopy, followed closely by Valvesan and the Rathaways.

“The moment we’ve been waiting for, gentlemen,” Eobard clapped his hands on Eddie’s and Hartley’s shoulders. Hartley reeled internally, but refrained from pulling away.

“Your Grace,” Hartley’s mother held one dainty hand above her eyes as she watched the approaching dragons. “Forgive me, but I only see five Dragonlords. Where is the sixth?”

“Hm?” Eobard looked between her and the dragons, taking a quick moment to count for himself. “You’re quite right, my Lady, there are only five.” He turned to his steward. “What is your explanation for this?”

“I have one theory, my Lord,” Valvesan’s voice slid disgustingly greasy through Hartley’s ears. “If our information proves correct, there is one Dragonlord…”

“I believe I understand your meaning, sir,” Eddie said, edging away from his uncle and moving Hartley further away in the process. “You believe the fifth judge is Leonard Kaldrythe, the Dragonlord without a Soultwin.”

Valvesan turned a narrow, calculating gaze on Eddie. “Well done.” He gave a thin smile. “It serves the Fraternity well to have informed members.”

Hartley could almost feel Eddie shiver beside him.

“Put on your best faces, everyone,” Eobard snapped his fingers and nodded his head to the landing area, where the first of the Dragonlords were finally spiraling down to land. “We have esteemed guests to greet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Len was the last to land in the crowded festival plaza. As they approached the capital of Central, he’d willingly fallen behind the others, giving himself more time in dragon form. Oliver landed first, quickly moving his things to make room for Felicity and rushing forward with her wheelchair once she’d changed. The two of them began making their way to the canopies that sheltered the nobles of the kingdom as Lisa and Shawna touched down and dissolved into clouds of golden and black smoke. When they at last cleared their luggage away and made room for Len, he circled lazily once more and carefully set down his traveling cases before he himself touched down, taking care that none of his appendages would strike a human.

Solidly on the ground, he scratched his talons lightly over the stone road before closing his eyes and letting his change melt over him. A rush of adrenaline stirred his blood as he became nothing more than a cloud of smoke, the most vulnerable state a Dragonlord could be in. If he were to lose his concentration, or the smoke be pierced with cold iron, he would be dead. He supposed that risk of death was what made the change so thrilling, but it was over just as suddenly as it started, and he was striding quickly to join his companions in greeting the contenders for the Central throne as servants came to transport his belongings.

Duke Eobard was the first to greet him, having been in a canopy much closer than the princess’. He was followed by a small entourage of who Leonard assumed were his trusted nobles. He had already greeted the other Dragonlords and was turning a charismatic smile on Len.

He supposed charismatic was what it was meant to be, but Len found it unsettling. He resisted the urge to reach for Kalt Senjata, his precious greatsword where it was strapped to his back. Instead, he extended his hand and shook the duke’s.

“It is a great honor, Dragonlord.” The duke greeted him warmly. “We are pleased to host you in our great city.” He held a hand out, gesturing to the young blond man standing further back on his right. “My nephew, Edward Thawne.”

Len reclaimed his hand from the duke and extended it toward his nephew, who seemed much more agreeable. Edward’s smile was genuine, and curiosity glimmered in his eyes as he murmured his own greetings.

“Leonard Kaldrythe,” he replied, turning a meaningful glance at the rest of the duke’s entourage, who the other Dragonlords had already met and were now moving to the princess. Duke Eobard followed his gaze and snapped his fingers in realization.

“Of course!” He gestured for the four remaining people to approach. “Marquess Osgood Rathaway and his wife Marquise Rachel Rathaway. The young man is their son Lord Hartley Rathaway.” Len shook hands with the Rathaway men and pressed a quick kiss to Lady Rachel’s knuckles before Eobard regained his attention.

“Finally, may I introduce my house steward, Agad Valvesan,” Eobard gestured to the neatly kept man who lingered behind the others. His black hair was tied at the neck, and his short beard was greased and trim. If Eobard had unsettled Len, this man was worse. He made to move to come closer, and Len made effort to offer his hand for a greeting.

“It is an honor, Your Grace.” His voice was more well-greased than his beard.

“Likewise,” Len pressed his lips into a thin smile before addressing the duke again. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He slipped past them all, slowing for just a moment to study young Hartley Rathaway, who seemed the most reserved in the whole exchange. Their eyes met and sharp blue eyes gazed back at him through a pair of glasses. Len smirked. Maybe the company in Central wouldn’t be so bad.

He reached the other Dragonlords and the princess just as the young girl had finished politely greeting Lisa and Shawna. She was twenty-three, Len knew because he had attended the party for her birth. Unlike him, though, she had changed very much since then. She was a picture of health with her full frame and rosy cheeks, though her eyes showed exhaustion. Wavy brown locks that were cut off at her shoulders framed her lovely face.

“Princess Jesse,” Len gave a real smile as he accepted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I hope you’re in good health.”

“I have no choice but to be, Your Grace,” she returned his smile as she dropped into a slight curtsy. “You honor us with your presence, Leonard Kaldrythe.”

“The honor of returning to my home is entirely mine, I assure you.”

“You’ll have the pleasure for at least a week to come,” Oliver cut in gently. Addressing the princess, he asked, “Sorry to interrupt. We’ve had a long journey, is there a place for us to retire?”

“Of course,” the princess, held a hand out to indicate the city around them. “There have been townhouses prepared for all of you. It would be my pleasure to guide you.” She turned back to Len with her outstretched hand. “If I may have the honor?”

“Of course,” Len bent his elbow and offered it to her as they all migrated to the waiting carriages.

They travelled through the city, Len sharing a carriage with the young princess while the other Dragonlords rode separately. They were relatively silent as buildings and people passed by outside the windows. They stopped twice, once for each of the townhouses the other Dragonlords would occupy for the duration of their stay, and Len was careful to memorize where each was.

“My father spoke of you, occasionally,” Jesse said, finally breaking the silence.

“Did he?” Len drawled. “And what sort of things did young Harry say?”

The princess seemed taken aback, though whether it was in reference to her father being ‘young or ‘Harry’, Len wasn’t sure. “He always said you were exceedingly loyal to Central Kingdom, even though you had no reason to be anymore. The time he spent with you affected him for the rest of his life.”

“A day or two spent with me is nothing life-changing,” Len shook his head. “Your father is too kind.”

“My father would have trusted you with his life,” Jesse insisted. “I only ask that you remember him.”

  
Len considered her in silence for a moment. “However fond I may have been of your father, I can’t change your kingdom’s laws. If the law places the duke on the throne, there’s nothing I can do.”

Jesse set her jaw and clenched her fists at her side. “I know that.” She looked away from Len and stared at her lap. “I only ask that you make the decision that is best for the kingdom. I trust your judgement.”

Len smirked. “I love my city, Your Highness, however little it may be ‘mine’ anymore. I would never give it any less.”

Jesse met his gaze again, steel in her eyes. “Then Central Kingdom’s future is secure.”

Len could only hope she was right.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I’m sorry this one took so long, but school stuff was really crap last week :p thanks for patience everyone :)
> 
> Have I mentioned I love Hartley?


	4. Seduction & Insanity

Barry was ready to be off that ship.

He loved sailing, he really did, but the rush of being on the open sea was only so effective once he started getting stir crazy. Even sitting down long enough to listen to Mick tell a story was beginning to get difficult.

“Barry,” Iris snapped her fingers in front of his nose to get his attention as they sat on either side of a crate for lunch. “You’re bouncing again.”

Barry startled and looked down at his crossed legs which were indeed bouncing nearly fast enough they could almost be vibrating. “Sorry,” he shot her an apologetic look as he stilled himself.

Iris sighed as she set her glass down next to their half finished plates of food. It was a fine day to be out on the deck to eat, but even that hadn’t helped Barry to calm down. “I talked to my father today,” she said conversationally. “I know you don’t want to seem pushy by asking, so I found out our next port for you.”

“Really?” Barry brightened at the prospect of docking soon. Hopefully the next docking would be soon, anyway.

Iris nodded. “We’re going to dock later today, actually. We’ll be on the coast of Central Kingdom, and from there we’ll travel over land to get to the capital.”

“Straight to the capital?” Barry raised an eyebrow. He was far from upset about that–his best friends Cisco and Caitlin were living in the capital at the moment–but they usually stopped in towns along the way before getting there.

“There will be a couple towns be stop at along the way, but they’re not far out of the way. We’ll be there in a few days.” Iris reached over the makeshift table to rest her hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Just be patient until then.”

“Of course,” Barry smiled softly in return as he reached up to grasp her hand. “How hard can just a few more days be?”

Very hard, actually, but he wasn’t going to tell Iris that. He swallowed down the last few gulps of ale in his cup before excusing himself and moving to join Mick where he was speaking with the captain at the helm.

“Mr. Allen,” the captain greeted him politely as he approached.

“Barry, please, Captain Singh,” Barry waved to him. “How goes the day?”

“Well, so far,” Captain Singh lifted one hand from the wheel and pointed ahead of them. “We’ll be going through a storm soon, though.”

Barry furrowed his eyebrows in concern, while Mick turned slightly green around the edges. He was probably remembering the last time he was on a ship that weathered a storm. “Will that delay our arrival?”

“On the contrary,” Captain Singh motioned for another sailor to take the helm so he could more freely speak to Barry. “If we time it correctly, we should be able to get ahead of the storm and it will speed our way.”

“How bad of a storm are we talking here?” Mick asked warily.

Captain Singh considered him for a moment. “For you, Mr. Rory, I recommend staying on deck with a tether. I won’t be able to spare anyone to clean your cabin for a while.”

Barry kept his smirk to himself as Mick grumbled about the sea. A few drops of water from the still-light sky hit Barry’s face and he tilted his head back to face the heavens. It might be unbearable to travel the seas for an extended amount of time, but the excitement of a storm…. Yes, a storm would be exactly what he needed.

* * *

 

  
Hartley stalked through the doors of his room, immediately moving to peel himself from the stuffy material of his formal clothes.With a frown, he realized his chambers were still in the same disarray which he’d left them in when he left that morning.

“Caitlin Snow,” he grumbled the name of his maid under his breath, then paused. How could he forget? He’d given her permission to take time off to see the arrival of the Dragonlords. She would return soon. He could take care of himself until then.

Now stripped to his breaches and undershirt, he approached the basin in the corner of his room and poured cool water from a vase into it. Taking off his glasses, he began to cleanse himself of the sweat that had beaded on his skin. He’d never liked the heat of Central, preferring the cooler temperatures of the South a good deal more.

Behind him, the telltale click of someone trying to open a door quietly sounded and shoes padded across the floor accompanied by the rustling of fabric. Without turning around, Hartley set down his washing cloth and straightened. “Snow, you could benefit from a lesson in time management skills.”

He could almost hear the wince in the girl’s voice when she replied. “I’m sorry, my lord. I thought I would have enough time to fix things before you returned. I had assumed you would stay at the festival longer.”

Hartley turned around and fixed her with a cross glare as he returned his glasses to his face. “I’m not some ignorant chit who worships Dragonlords like they’re gods. What do I care for a festival in their honor?”

“You’re right, I–” Caitlin started, but Hartley held up a hand to silence her as he picked up on the sound of voices echoing through the empty hallways of the Rathaway townhouse. Caitlin looked confused, but kept her silence as Hartley crossed to her door to listen. She was used to this by now.

Hartley closed his eyes, tilting his head and allowing himself to focus on softer sounds, further away. The voices he’d heard were unmistakably those of his parents and the Thawne men. He couldn’t hear the steward speaking, but he didn’t doubt Valvesan was with them as well.

“Snow,” he snapped suddenly. “Fetch something suitable for a council meeting. I have somewhere to be.”

“Yes, my lord,” she curtsied swiftly and swept around the room, tidying as she gathered new clothes for him to wear. Hartley would never say it out loud, but he appreciated her ability to multitask. Occasionally he could catch her off guard and she would let slip something that no one of her position would normally know. She was clever, somehow. Not as clever as Hartley, but clever.

Within minutes she had helped him dress and arrange his appearance to suit polite company. As Hartley stalked toward the door, he paused as an afterthought hit him and he turned back to Caitlin. “We have noble company present, take care that you are neither seen nor heard. Stay in this room, or leave now.”

With that, he went to his parents receiving room as quickly as he dared, taking care not to be caught running. When he reached the large redwood doors that the Fraternity was meeting behind, he stopped for only a moment to straighten himself before pushing them both open at once.

His entrance came as an interruption to Duke Eobard, who seemed only somewhat put off while Hartley’s parents focused their displeasured gazes on him. He ignored the latter as he took his seat next to Eddie, and he certainly ignored the smile Eddie was directing at him. Did he understand the concept or certain things having an appropriate time and place?

No one had risen for Hartley’s entrance, he noticed. Not even the lowly house steward.

“Lord Hartley,” Eobard greeted him with false warmth. “I’m so pleased you could join us. We were just discussing you.”

Hartley schooled the irritation out of his face and raised an eyebrow in feigned indifference. “Something I’m sure my honored parents are none too pleased about. Have I done something displeasing to the Fraternity?”

If Hartley wasn’t already sure that Valvesan was pulling all the strings behind the Fraternity, his suspicions were proved when the house steward answered the question posed to his lord.

“Of course not, my lord.” The man pressed his lips into a thin smile. “We were actually discussing the last Dragonlord, Leonard Kaldrythe. More specifically, his interest in you.”

Hartley stayed still, waiting for Valvesan to elaborate. Did they suspect he had been in contact with the Dragonlords? That would have been impossible. Had Eddie sparked suspicion among them? When no one spoke, Hartley broke the silence. “I noticed nothing that could be considered interest. Perhaps you could explain what I missed?”

Eobard laughed, then. “Of course, often the objects of a man’s affection are unaware of their situation.” He looked Hartley up and down the way one might examine pastries in a bakery. “Usually the object of a man’s affection is a woman, but who are mere truehumans to pass judgement on a Dragonlord?”

Hartley’s fingers curled tightly over the arm of his chair, out of sight of anyone else at the table. He didn’t dare look at his parents. They had told the duke about Hartley’s past. _Their greatest shame_ , he thought bitterly.

“Why would his interest in me be any concern to the Fraternity? You know where my loyalties lie.” Hartley adjusted his glasses calmly, keeping his gaze straight ahead on Valvesan.

“He is loyal,” Osgood put in. “As the rest of our family is, I assure you. No Dragonlord could turn his head.”

Eobard waved him off easily. “I believe you completely, Os. I would never doubt your son. Actually, Agad and I were discussing a way for him to be of even more use to the Fraternity, should he agree to it.”

“He’ll agree, he knows his place.” Hartley’s mother said, and he could almost picture her stern gaze on him, though he refused to turn his head to see it.

“The act of seducing a Dragonlord is not one taken lightly,” Valvesan’s stare bored through Hartley. “That is what we would require of you, though it would be understandable if you had some aversion to the dalliance?”

Hartley’s stomach turned. They wouldn't say it in such bohemian terms, but they expected Hartley to sleep with Leonard Kaldrythe. Presumably to gain information on the true powers of Dragonlords. The idea sickened him.

“I could do it,” Eddie cut in, almost startling Hartley with how close his voice sounded.

“No, Edward, you don’t have the time,” Eobard waved him off immediately. “Of course we won’t press if Hartley is truly averse to the idea.”

“Hartley will do his duty to the Fraternity gladly,” Hartley’s father said with finality, as much an assurance to the duke as it was a threat to his son. “He knows this is all there is for him.”

Hartley fought the shakiness from his stomach to keep it out of his voice when he finally replied. “How do you expect me to do this?”

“I’ll introduce you to him again, properly.” Eobard grinned like he’d just had a victory. “There will be a banquet tomorrow night, after the opening of council sessions. He may need someone to accompany him.”

“Then I’ll excuse myself now,” Hartley slid his chair back and rose, making his way to the door faster than he thought he would. Behind him, his father was moving to reprimand him, but the duke waved him off.

“Let him go,” his voice echoed down the hall, chasing Hartley as he left. “He’s unnecessary for the rest.”

Hartley didn’t care what ‘the rest’ was. He assumed it meant everything else in Valvesan’s plan, but he didn’t care to hear any of it at that moment. He just swept through the halls back to his chambers, letting fire build in his chest.

When he burst through his bedroom doors, Caitlin was still there and she leaped to her feet in surprise.

“Lord Har–“

Her voice was drowned out by the nearest glass object shattering against the far wall.

* * *

 

  
“What do you all think, after the first day of council sessions?” Oliver asked the assembled Dragonlords as he came to sit in the living area of the townhouse he and Felicity were staying in.

“About the royal candidates or about the council itself?” Len drawled, tossing back the rest of a glass of wine. “Because I’ll be the first to admit that session made me wish Dragonlords could get drunk.”

Oliver scowled at him, high and mighty as usual. Len internally rolled his eyes. Some people may have adapted to the idea of being better than the average truehuman, but not everyone let go of alcohol so easily.

“Hear hear,” Lisa joined her brother, briefly holding out her glass in a mock toast.

“It’s hard to say right now,” Felicity subtly turned them back to the subject at hand. “We haven’t seen much of the candidates so far.”

“Jesse is a smart kid, she takes a lot after her father,” Len pointed out. “She’d make a good queen for Central.”

“You forget that we can’t make decisions based on personal opinion,” Oliver reprimanded.

“You forget that the three of us came from Central,” Shawna cut in. “This is our country, Oliver. We want what’s best for it.”

“You haven’t lived here in centuries,” Oliver reminded her. “None of you have. Our job is to choose someone who upholds the people’s values now, not what they were nearly a millennium ago.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Len said, setting his wine glass aside and sinking into the couch cushions.

“What?” Felicity asked, turning her attention away from Shawna.

“He said it doesn’t matter,” Lisa supplied helpfully, smirking.

“This is still my city,” Len explained. “I love it here, that won’t change. That aside, I don’t think Thawne has more legal claim to the throne than Jesse anyway.”

“The law says the throne belongs to the next male heir,” Oliver leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, looking Len intently in the eyes.

“Maybe it’s time for the law to change,” Lisa shrugged, pouring herself more to drink. “It’s gone out of style in other places before.”

“It’s not our job to change the law,” Shawna placed a hand over her Soultwin’s. “We can only uphold it.”

“Then the solution is simple,” Len spread his hands in an open gesture. “We get them to change their own laws.”

 

* * *

 

Barry stood his ground in the storm, holding tight to his tether line. Rain plastered his hair to his scalp as he turned his face skyward and grinned into the rain. Lightning flashed before his eyes and burned spots into his retinas in the shape of veins. His own veins coursed with adrenaline as the ship rose and fell on the waves. This was exactly the excitement he had needed.

Mick was hunched over the side, tether pulled tight as he wretched over the side of the ship. Barry let out a gleeful laugh, the sound drowned out but blending in with the din of the thunder. It was probably cruel, having so little empathy for someone he spent so much time with, but it was impossible for Barry to be upset in the midst of a storm.

Joe had always thought it some level of sick that Barry would love thunderstorms so much, especially after what he’d been through in his life. The lightning that had struck him when he was younger probably should have made him afraid of storms for life. On the contrary, now Barry felt like he was a part of the storm. Alive with the same lightning in the skies, like he could be cracking through the skies as well. These were the days he lived for.

The next crack of lightning sounded louder than any had before it, leaving Barry doubled over and covering his ears for the pain of it. No one else seemed affected by the sudden rise in volume. Barry’s nose was bombarded with every scent on the ship. Sweat from the sailors, bile from the sick, all of it seemed magnified tenfold. Barry dropped to his knees, as the noise began to fade his sight sharpened, throwing everything into sharp clarity, even in the near dark.

Barry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to dull the onslaught of input from his senses. What this how it felt to descend into insanity? Was this how his father had felt before killing his mother? Barry’s stomach lurched at the thought of committing some similar act in his madness.

Barry barely registered the hands on his back, his arms, trying to pull him up, to steady him. He struggled against them, but he could feel himself growing weaker, like the lightning was leaving him and taking its strength with him. When his consciousness finally left him, he welcome the comforting darkness gladly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you so much for reading! I’m super busy this week, but I really wanted to get a chapter up before the weekend. I tried really hard, so I hope you like it! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to voiceofdragons and youmakemesoangry for helping me edit this first chapter, and thanks to TheRedHarlequin for making me want to write it. 
> 
> The lore of the story is based on The Last Dragonlord by Joanne Bertin, which is a super good book that I would highly recommend to anyone who loves dragons. Updates won't happen too frequently, but I'll do my best to keep them coming, and I'm excited to get where this story is going. :) Thanks for reading!


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